Page 93 of Isabela

I listen to the recording to the end, the sun setting by the time it stops.

“She should play it,” I say. Tears are drying on my own face as I speak, my nose stuffed up from how long I’ve been crying. “Let the assholes realize how damn strong she really is, and the impossible choices she’s had to make.”

“If only so they can see she wasn’t responsible for the embezzlement and corruption within the company,” Aria agrees.

Opening my text thread with Isa, I start to type.

Hey, Little one. I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are. Show them the recording, let the bastards choke on your truth.

Isa: Love you too.

Chuckling despite the recording I just listened to, I show Aria the message.

“I’ve got the dishes, baby. Go take a bath. We can spoil Isabela tomorrow night with a date night,” I say.

“Thanks, I’m exhausted,” she says with a sigh.

“I’m checking on you in a half hour to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep,” I call after her as I stand.

“Of course you will. I love you too,” she says as she sashays out of the room.

They’re both brats, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ARIA

Iwatch the bubbles as they slowly pop and I drop my head back onto the pillow that I have for my tub. It’s the perfect size to hold two people, possibly three. My eyes are a little puffy from crying and I just wish there was something I could do to help Isabela.

Unfortunately, processing trauma has its own timeline. I know this better than anyone. All I can do is be there for her.

Moving as if in a daze, I get out of the tub to dry off and throw on one of Gael’s hooded shirts that he wears to work out. It hits my knees, a perfectly acceptable sleep shirt. I’m not feeling panties right now, so I decide to go without.

Walking to Isabela’s bedroom, I check out her closet for an outfit for tomorrow. Any night Gael plans is fun, and typically has some naughtiness attached to it. I wonder if he’ll pick up some new toys. My husband always comes up with the best surprises.

Humming to myself, I stare at her closet. It’s filled with outfit choices now, and thankfully Isa didn’t fight me on this. I think explaining to her that I have few people to spoil definitely helped. We have so much money it’s ridiculous.

That thought brings me to Gael’s proposal. Is it admitting defeat if I decide to go with the publishing company he’s buying into, or is it a new, better opportunity?

I’m two seconds away from stabbing my publisher with a rusty pair of scissors, and for my own sanity, I’m very close to admitting this may be for the best.

Pulling out a black crop-top, mesh overlay, and a cute skirt, I pair them with black booties. Smirking as I think about how hot Isabela will look for us, I hang it all up and put it out, so she’ll see it the next time she comes in here. She has a late night tonight, and I check the time to see that she won’t be home for another hour.

Fuck late classes. I used to worry when Gael was given this shit schedule his first semester at Hoyt. Thankfully, it changed very quickly, so I was no longer waiting up worrying about him. It’s a Friday night, and I know people are drinking before they shackle themselves to studying for exams.

Drifting back to my bedroom, I think about the things Isabela went through. I hate that she’ll have to play the recording for the men in that room. Cohen Security and Communications needs an overhaul of its board members. There are too many men on it who have been in power for too long.

Pulling together an outfit doesn’t take me long, and then I find myself bored again. Sighing, I walk through the house to find my husband, who is working out in our gym. I rarely come in here, but it serves as his sanctuary from stress.

Leaning against the wall, I watch him lift weights, smirking as his muscles tense and release. God, he’s so damn gorgeous.

“See something you like, wife?” Gael asks, glancing up at me. There’s sweat in his blond hair, darkening it, and his moss green eyes are intense as he gazes at me.

“Always,” I say with a smile. “I’m tired, but I hate going to bed alone, so I’m trying to stay up.”

My husband smiles knowingly at me, understanding that I’m also waiting up for Isa too.

“She’s going to be okay,” he grunts, finishing up his last rep before standing. “Isa is tough, more than she should be at her age.”

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